


Journey's End

by awarrington



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awarrington/pseuds/awarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the battle with the Seal People as a fill for <a href="http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/2834.html?thread=3662354#t3662354">this prompt</a> on the LiveJournal<a href="http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com"> Eagle kink meme</a>.  Written for the fan media meme, inspired by the centurion’s helmet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journey's End

Esca watched as the last of what had been the ninth legion was swallowed up by the mist which had been floating about them like a veil to another world. As soon as they were out of sight Marcus, standing beside him, seemed to slump. It was as though he’d only held himself upright and strong for the benefit of the ex-legionaries, perhaps so their last memory of Centurion Aquila, son of their first cohort commander, would be of a fierce and proud Roman commander, victorious in battle.

Esca hesitated, watching and waiting to see if Marcus would hold himself together. He felt both angered and comforted that Marcus allowed him to see his more vulnerable side. Angered because it was yet one more thing that made it harder to hate Marcus as a symbol of all he despised about the Romans and their occupation of his homeland, the loss of his family; yet comforted that he, Esca, should be allowed this privilege of seeing the real man behind the armour he normally donned to keep the world at arms length. This epitomised his continued ambivalence towards his former master, though the tide was turning and the two opposing feelings were no longer equal.

“I…” Marcus began, then shook his head, staring at the ground as if something of deep interest held his attention, though Esca was certain the opposite was true: that his mind was quite empty at that moment.

Marcus was exhausted, he could see that. Their run from the Seal people, his injury and the strength he’d had to bring to the final battle had each taken its toll on his stamina, leaving him with virtually no reserve.

Esca wasn’t in much better condition. He’d run for a day to Guern’s village and had only had a brief respite while the old Roman had rounded up his compatriots and then they had run back, albeit at a slower pace, given their relative ages. He couldn’t remember the last time they ate until a memory surfaced of eating the raw flesh of a rat, that made his stomach turn.

Swallowing hard, he focused back on the present. Though they were no longer being chased, it was unsafe to remain where they were. One look at Marcus told him he was in no state to make decisions, which meant it would be up to Esca to choose their next course of action. To that end he quickly considered their options and as he did so, a thought struck him. He’d given up his father’s dagger, but he’d need one if they were to catch food to survive. Looking at the bodies lined up on the other side of the river, he sighed and waded across the shallow water, its frigid temperature barely registering.

Aware that Romans had rituals for their journey to their afterlife, he dropped to his knee beside one of the Seal people, preferring to take one of their weapons than ‘disarm’ one of the legionaries and risk upsetting Marcus. A glance up at him across the water showed he hadn’t moved from where he’d left him a minute earlier. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he began to rummage. It didn’t take long to find a dagger that felt well-balanced in his hand, its bone hilt covered in intricate ornamental carvings, tucking it into the empty sheath at his hip with a grunt of satisfaction.

Wading back, he stood in front of Marcus, who was shivering. “We need to get away from here, find somewhere to rest.”

The words brought Marcus’ attention back from wherever it had wandered. “Yes,” he agreed, but made no move to follow the suggestion.

They were in a ravine, the sides steep and wooded; as he glanced around him he realised it was doubtful Marcus would have the strength to climb to the top. A look south in the direction he and the legionaries had come from that morning and then back to Marcus, he made a quick decision, taking hold of Marcus’ elbow.

“Come on,” he said, guiding him forward. “Let’s find some shelter.”

The only response was a grunt as he allowed himself to be led, wading in the shallow water. After some time, the bank to their left began to lower until it was not much of a climb to the top with the help of overhanging branches. Even so, once there, they had to pause for Marcus to get his breath back before continuing.

Marcus limped and stumbled through the undergrowth, his leg sometimes almost giving way so that Esca was forced to half carry him, working through his own exhaustion to do it. The injury to his right arm burned, his own legs felt like rubber and his chest heaved with the effort of carrying his burden, the cold, crisp air, filled with the smell of damp loam, burning the back of his throat with each laboured breath.

The woodland was so dense with hazel and rowan trees and large shrubs they had to force branches out of their way, catching on their tunics and tearing them, the smaller ones scratching at them as they passed. Esca lost all sense of time, focusing only on his own footfall, moving forwards, keeping Marcus from pitching over as each of his steps forward was marked by a gasp of pain. The one thing he was thankful for was that the rain had stayed away, though the mist was thickening ominously.

Every now and then, Esca heard the sound of scampering, noting the area had plenty of sources of food. In all of their struggles, he’d managed to keep hold of his bow and quiver – it would likely save their lives. The thought that after finding shelter he would have to go hunting made him want to weep, since what he wanted more than anything was to be able to lie down somewhere dry and sleep like the dead.

Ahead of them was a fallen log and steering Marcus towards it, they sat down for a much-needed rest. Marcus folded his arms on his lefts and rested his head on them. At least he’d stopped shivering, Esca noticed.

“Now would be a good time to pray to one of your gods for shelter,” he suggested.

Marcus looked up, eyes bleary and nodded. He reached inside his tunic and suddenly started.

“What?” Esca hissed, his heart pounding, alert to any sounds around them.

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose and slumping, shook his head. “My eagle – I’d forgotten. I thought I’d lost it. I always held it when I prayed.”

Esca sagged in relief.

Worried the sun was on its way down, despite bone-tired weariness, Esca stood and then hauled Marcus up. Every muscle in his body protested and each step felt like torture.

Before long, Esca was thanking his own deities as the going finally started to become easier, the woodland thinning out as the soil beneath their feet turned to rock. He almost missed it, his eyes cast down to focus on the uneven ground as they laboured with each step. A chance glance up through the swirls of fog, he could just make out the bottom of a rocky promontory some way off to their left that they must have been skirting for a while. Veering towards it for a closer look, he could see the limestone wall was broken up by fissures, some only a handspan wide, others bigger; but importantly Esca recognised it as the type of rock where caves were commonplace.

He stopped to scan the escarpment, forgetting Marcus for a moment until his friend took a step without his support and fell to his knees with a grunt. Lines of pain creased his face and looking at the state of him, Esca made a quick decision.

“Wait here. I’ll go and look for shelter.”

When Marcus didn’t respond Esca knelt beside him and grasped his chin, forcing Marcus to look at him, acknowledge him. “Marcus.” When that didn’t seem to get his attention, his eyes remaining glazed he said more loudly, “Centurion!”

Finally he saw focus come back to Marcus’ eyes. “Listen to me!” He waited for a spark of recognition that the words were getting through. “I’m going to look for somewhere we can rest, you wait here and—”

“No—” Marcus broke in, shaking his head.

“Yes. Stay here. I’ll be back. Just…stay here.”

Marcus began to struggle to his feet, pulling on some inner strength the source of which Esca marvelled at, and a part of him acknowledged a degree of both pride and frustration that his friend refused to accept he’d reached his limit.

“I’m coming with you,” Marcus insisted, pulling himself up to his full height with tremendous effort. It was sheer will power alone, Esca was sure, that kept him upright.

“Your injury will slow us. I won’t be long – save your energy so I don’t have to carry you to whatever I can find.”

At another time, with less fatigue, Marcus would likely have scoffed at the idea that he could lift the Roman. Instead, he jutted out his chin, the muscles of his jaw bunching as he clenched and unclenched his teeth, more than likely from pain, Esca realised. As they stared one another down, he felt certain he was going to have a fight on his hands.

“You go on,” Marcus said between gritted teeth. “I’ll go at my own pace.”

It was a compromise and Esca didn’t have the energy for an argument. So he nodded and for the second time in two days, left Marcus alone and exhausted, at least this time for only a short spell, not for a day and a half, as before.

Despite aching from head to foot, he forced himself on, following the base of the cliff, his feet occasionally slipping on the gravelly ground. He needed to stay upright because if he tripped over, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

In the course of his search, he found three small shelters – little more than rocky overhangs – that would do if they huddled close together; but he kept moving forward in the hope of something bigger and his persistence was finally rewarded. Following a curve in the tall cliff he came across the rounded entrance of a cave, looking like a great yawn in the rock wall. Inside, it opened up into a large cavern, too dark to see but the echo from a shout told him it was large. He could see the outlines of stalagmites and a touch to the walls showed they were wet but the ground, at least, felt dry.

Returning the way he came, he was amazed at how far Marcus had managed on his own. That he could even stand, let alone walk, was an achievement. When they arrived at the cave, Esca had to rest as dizziness threatened to make him black out. Marcus simply lay on the ground, filthy and shivering, his tunic shredded more by their journey since the battle than the previous two days of running from the Seal people. Blood caked his breeches where his wound continued to bleed, never having had a chance to heal.

They needed heat and they needed food, and he considered which one to give a priority to. ‘Shelter, heat, water, food’ he’d been taught as a child: the priorities for survival. Marcus’ skin was cold and clammy to the touch and that more than anything, reinforced the old lesson from his tribal days. They weren’t about to starve to death but if Marcus wasn’t warmed up soon, he might die from exposure. The cave was large enough for him to light a small fire inside without smoking them out and there was plenty of wood not far from the mouth of the cave, though the several journeys he took to gather it all seemed to sap the last of his energy.

They were fortunate there were enough dry twigs and grasses – no doubt left by animals nesting there – to make decent kindling and using his flint stones, managed to get a fire going quickly. He sat back in relief as the damp wood crackled and popped, and with little wind to speak of, he was grateful the smoke rose upward to caress the high roof, rather than around them, though its acrid smell filled the air. For a while, he sat and rested, enjoying the heat of the fire as it grew, suffusing his body with its warmth and drying his clothes, gradually taking in his surroundings, seeing from the flickering flames that the cavern was substantial.

Marcus had managed to crawl over without being cajoled and Esca felt grateful that he wasn’t too delirious to help himself, though his face drawn in pain, his eyes dull and unfocused. The fact he was still awake was testament to his utter stubbornness to give in to his exhaustion.

“I’m going to find food; I’ll be back soon. Try and get some rest.”

Marcus nodded, as if too tired to speak and taking it as an affirmation, Esca struggled to his feet, his aching legs protesting. He stood and looked down at his former master and now friend, lying on his side, his head resting on one arm, and in the space of a few breaths, had already fallen asleep.

The light of the fire, now burning brightly, flickered about his face, showing it to be covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He was reminded of how Marcus had been in the days right after his surgery; then he’d been feverish and he found himself hoping that he didn’t succumb again. That would delay their journey and despite having defeated the Seal warriors, their lives were in danger as long as they remained north of the wall.

With little enthusiasm, Esca set off back towards the woods in search of prey. Evidently, the area wasn’t well-hunted as it took no time to shoot himself a hare, and kneeling beside a small stream, he gutted it, washing the knife and his hands. When the water turned a pale red, he was reminded of the battle they had just fought and how the river had flowed with the blood of good men on both sides. It was a thought he chose not to dwell on, knowing it was his decision to help Marcus that ultimately had cost those lives.

On his way back, as the light faded and the fog thickened, he gathered armfuls of bracken for bedding. Marcus was still soundly asleep when Esca returned – the normally light-sleeper still dead to the world. Dropping his burden, Esca grabbed some more wood for the fire and then sat down beside him to skin the hare and begin to cook it.

With nothing else to do, he watched Marcus, his handsome features slack – almost peaceful – in repose, his dark skin marking him a foreigner. His gaze wandered over the familiar landscape of his face, and he found himself wondering when he had fallen for this man, when he had gone from hating him to wanting him to loving him; loving him enough to betray the people his father had fought alongside, the people who had welcomed Esca, as the son of Cunoval, into their homes. But they were also the people who had slain Marcus’ father, the people who were preventing Marcus from regaining the honour his father had lost, so that he could get on with his life. And so, his heart had demanded he ignore a tribal treaty, and stand loyal by the man he had vowed to serve, and in that avowal, to keep safe.

Marcus hair was matted to his forehead and reaching out, he pushed the damp strands away, noticing how fine and soft his hair felt, compared to his own coarser hair. Of their own volition, his fingers kept carding the silky strands in a slow, soothing rhythm, gentle enough that it didn’t rouse Marcus from his deep sleep.

There was something oddly moving about seeing this man, lying here beside him, a Roman who had commanded soldiers and who had fought bravely in battle, his courage never faltering despite sometimes overwhelming odds. In silent adoration, he felt his throat tighten, and his chest ache at the thought of what he could not have, for he knew enough of Roman mores to know that he was far too old to be considered as a lover. Even if he weren’t, he wouldn’t want a relationship that was so unequal, where sex was about winning and losing. But it was all a moot point, because had Marcus desired him, then as his body slave, he could have taken him any time, yet the Roman had never showed even the remotest interest. Knowing that, though, didn’t stop Esca _wanting_.

In a bid to take his mind off such unproductive thoughts, he glanced around at the walls of the cavern, wondering how far back it went. Grabbing a large branch, he shoved it in the fire until it lit and forcing his aching legs under him, stood and walked slowly towards the back of the cave. At times he had to squeeze through pillars of rock, the flame of his torch illuminating the wet walls, making them glisten in the flickering light as though they were lined with jewels.

Hearing the sound of running water, he carefully made his way towards it, finding a series of small pools created by water cascading down the wall, and running off to beyond a point he could easily see. Feeling pleased, he headed back to the fire and food. With the smell of cooked meat wafting around, his mouth began to water.

Getting Marcus to wake up and eat was hard, but the nourishment quickly had a visible effect on him and for the first time, he looked at Esca with a degree of lucidity he hadn’t seen since the end of the battle.

“You’re filthy and covered in blood. You need to clean up,” Esca said when they’d finished, putting the leftover meat to one side for breakfast.

“You don’t exactly smell of roses either,” Marcus said, with a wry smile and seeing it made Esca grin back despite himself. He knew Marcus was exaggerating – they’d spent enough time in the river to have cleaned their clothes well and even after his run, he’d got soaked through during the fighting.

“There’s water back there,” he said, indicating with a nod of his head the back end of the cave. He got another long branch and put it into the fire until it caught light.

Kneeling down beside the pools, they started by drinking water, which tasted chalky, and Esca found himself was surprised at how thirsty he was considering how much water he’d inadvertently swallowed earlier that day. Marcus gulped his down too.

Getting Marcus to hold the make-shift torch, Esca shuffled to kneel in front of him and getting Marcus to sit with his legs out, carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandage from his thigh. Then dipping it into the water, he rinsed it out and used it to dab gently at the wound, hearing Marcus’ sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth each time he touched the sensitive spot.

Before he tied it back into position, he rinsed it in water again and lifted it to Marcus’ face, wiping away the mixture of blood, mud and dried sweat, trailing the cloth over the beautiful planes, across the tall, proud brow and down along the curve of his jaw. He hadn’t done this for Marcus since shortly after the surgeon’s visit in Calleva – what seemed a lifetime ago – the Roman too proud to allow Esca to fuss over him after the first few days of his recovery. It was only hearing the change in Marcus’ breathing that took his gaze from where he was cleansing, to his friend’s eyes and the look there was unmistakable, a look he knew was mirrored in his own.

His heart thundered in his chest at this revelation – the first time he’d seen such a look directed at him – and swallowed hard as they stared at one another, the tension between them palpable. He reminded himself that it didn’t matter what he could see, what Marcus might want, because he was too Roman to give Esca what he wished for.

He broke the stare, looking down, and the moment was broken. Rinsing the cloth for a final time, he carefully tied it back around Marcus’ thigh.

“Take this,” Marcus said, handing him the torch. Ripping a piece of cloth from the bottom of his tunic, already in tatters, he dipped it into the water and gently lifted it to Esca’s face, the cold water cooling him where he’d suddenly become hot, the occasional stinging telling him where he was cut.

For a moment, Esca marvelled at how they must have looked: two men, one the son of a Brigantes chieftain and the other, his sworn enemy, a Roman centurion, cleansing each other. Neither of them were known for their gentleness yet here, alone and in another world, they touched each other with almost reverence. If anything told Esca that he was no longer Marcus’ slave, this was it: they now faced each other as equals.

“Your arm,” Marcus said, looking down to just below his right shoulder. The words broke through his thoughts – he’d almost forgotten about his injury, too bone-weary to pay attention to it. Marcus wet the cloth again and then swabbed around the cut. Pain shot up and down his arm, making him hiss through his teeth as he clenched his fists. This earnt him a concerned look from Marcus and that, if nothing else, forced him to put on a stoic face as Marcus wrapped the bandage tight round his upper arm.

Patched up and needing to put some distance between them, Esca stood up and held out his hand to help haul Marcus up, his friend gratefully grabbing it and rising with a grunt of effort. Suddenly they were standing almost chest to chest. Esca looked up, wanting to gauge Marcus, who quietly looked back.

A wry smile played about his lips. “If I don’t sit down again soon, I’ll fall down,” he said, and grinning back at him, Esca turned towards their fire.

They sat side by side staring into the flames, watching the sparks fly upward, bright against an inky black backdrop. Esca felt too keyed up to sleep and wondered how Marcus could stay awake. Recalling the pain when Marcus had cleansed the wound to his arm, which had left a dull throb in its wake, a thought struck him and he turned, looking up at his friend.

“Is your leg painful?”

Marcus nodded and unconsciously pressed the heel of his hand into his thigh. “A new injury on top of an old one – I’m not sure which hurts more.”

“I can help you with that – you remember the massages I gave you after the surgeon’s work?”

“No, Esca,” Marcus said emphatically. “You’re not my slave any more.”

The thought warmed him that Marcus genuinely intended to keep to his offer of freeing him. “Then I’ll help you as my friend.”

It was testament to Marcus’ degree of discomfort that he immediately demurred and stretched his legs out. With his back to the fire, Esca straddled Marcus’ shins and splaying his hand either side of his thigh, began to gently press his thumbs through the material of his breeches to ease the cramped muscles. Feeling the heat of his body through his fingertips, he carefully avoided the newer injury as his thumbs described small circles, sliding slowly from Marcus’ hip to his knee.

Without words, he could tell the effect was positive when the harsh breathing grew softer. He glanced up and saw Marcus was watching him, his eyes heavy lidded, that same look on his face he’d had earlier. Esca swallowed and sat back on his haunches, removing his hands from the desirable body.

“You need to sleep to regain your strength.”

Marcus nodded. “I think I can now. Thank you.”

Esca forced himself to fetch some more wood, putting it on the fire so that it would last the best part of the night, then picked up the bracken and brought it over to where Marcus was sitting. Spreading it on the ground, they settled down in their customary position since they’d begun the journey: Marcus lying behind, sharing body warmth. It was testament to Esca’s exhaustion how quickly he fell asleep.

He woke early the next morning, the sky still painted more with night than day, the fire mostly ash, though some embers still burned. What had woken him was a full bladder, thanks to all the water he’d drunk before going to sleep. Still aching from the toil of the previous few days, he stretched, and as always as soon as he stirred, Marcus came awake behind him.

“I need to piss,” Marcus said from behind him, “but I don’t have the strength to get up.”

Esca smiled, though Marcus couldn’t see it. “I’m suffering a similar dilemma,” he confirmed.

Nature won out, and after throwing more wood on the embers and watching them ignite, they went outside to relieve themselves. The air was filled with a misty drizzle, leading Esca to wonder if the rain ever let up here. Making their way to the back of the cave to wash, he noticed Marcus was moving much better than the previous day, which was a good sign. Perhaps a lot of the issues had been down to sheer fatigue. Kneeling down they drank and then splashed the frigid water over their faces.

“I miss having hot baths,” Marcus said as they walked back to the fire. “I’ll be glad to see the back of this place.”

Esca busied himself cutting off more of the cooked meat from the carcass, handing pieces to Marcus and eating some himself until their bellies were full. Outside the drizzle had turned to full rain, pattering against the rocky ground like tiny stamping feet, and despite the warmth of the fire, an involuntary shiver passed through him at the memory of their desperate escape.

“How long do you wish to rest here?” Esca asked as he sat back on his hands, his ankles crossed in front of him. They couldn’t get away from this inhospitable world fast enough for him.

Marcus rubbed at his leg and grimaced. “Another day, and if the hunting is good, we will have slept and eaten well.”

Esca nodded in agreement – though he’d slept through, he still felt shattered. “I think we should travel by night – the tribes around these parts will have been alerted and I don’t fancy our chances if we’re caught.”

“Agreed. How far is it to the wall? Did Guern tell you?”

Esca stared into the flames watching them flicker gold, orange and red. “Three days from where we were. Four perhaps if you are still lame.”

Marcus winced at his choice of words just as Esca turned to him.

“I’m sorry—” Esca started to say.

“There’s no polite way to put it,” Marcus cut in, holding his gaze. “And you’re right – we can’t go as fast as I would like.

There was little point dwelling, so he changed the subject. “What will you do now you have the eagle?”

Marcus eyes slid towards the nearby bundle. “I don’t know. My whole life was aimed at being a soldier and regaining my family’s honour. I didn’t plan beyond it.” He stared at the fire in silence, Esca sensing to remain silent. “I cannot return home – my mother is dead and the farm has gone.” Marcus shrugged. “My uncle is the only family I have.”

Esca could hear the pain in his voice. “You’ll miss the army.”

Marcus swallowed. “Yes. All I ever wanted to do was follow the eagles and it’s all I’ve had since I was sixteen. The proudest moment of my life was when I was promoted to centurion. I was given my new uniform and the first time I wore it, I remember putting on the helmet with its the red crest, feeling the weight of it on my head, like the weight of command. I got all my promotions on merit after seeing action in Egypt and then Germania – not one of those political appointments.” Marcus said the last with a sneer and Esca was reminded of the visitors to the villa whose discussion that night had set off this whole quest. That was when he had first learnt of Marcus’ connection with the ninth.

Esca had never seen Marcus in uniform, though he had seen it in a trunk in his cell. He had no difficulty imagining Marcus standing tall and arrogant as he led his men into battle. He knew his friend to be courageous and had learnt from Stephanos how Marcus had risked his own life to save the lives of the men under him in a battle with the Dumnonii. Being so far from the land of the Brigantes, he knew little of them – his own tribe had never had wars or treaties with them, so he felt no particular loyalty towards them, though he could understand their wish to try to drive the Romans out.

“Your actions gained honours for your cohort and for you. You should be proud of that. And now, with the eagle, you have redeemed your father’s honour also.”

Marcus nodded. “We seem to have suffered similar fates, you and I – both homeless and without families. What will _you_ do now? Will you…” Esca heard an audible swallow, “…return to your people?”

Esca regarded Marcus, wondering at his obvious upset that just the mere thought of that question brought on. With no-one but his uncle, he could understand Marcus getting sentimental at the idea of losing the one friend he’d made.

As to the question itself, it was one he had been wrestling with ever since he’d begun the journey and thoughts that once he’d discarded his vow he would escape. At first he could think of nothing else than returning to his people and once again embracing life with the Brigantes. But his father’s tribe had been decimated, the remainder scattered among other tribes who had been quick to carve up their lands. If he returned, he would be forever indebted to whichever tribe took him in, and he would lose all status. In other words, he would be forever shamed. For a while, he believed he could have lived with it, but as time had gone on, despite his longing, he knew he couldn’t, knew his temperament wouldn’t stand for it and would get him into trouble. Now that Marcus had asked him directly, it essentially forced him to make his choice – the only one there was.

“I have no wish to return to the Brigantes.” Marcus looked surprised and then pleased, a smile quirking his lips. “We are a loose conglomeration of tribes,” he explained, “my own gone, I would be as foreign to them as you, save for the language. I have no wish to be beholden to them for their hospitality.”

“Then come back to Calleva with me. You can find work there. Perhaps we could get a farm, or breed horses. I…I don’t want you to leave.” The look from last night had returned, the look of longing.

Without realising he’d done it, Esca moved his hand to cup Marcus’ face, his thumb sliding down his friend’s lightly-bristled cheek. He was about to pull his hand away when Marcus covered it with his own and twisting his face, pressed a kiss to the palm.

The intimate touch sent a jolt through him centring in his groin. However, warring with his desire was anger. Apparently Marcus was willing to overlook his being too old to be a sexual partner, but it wasn’t enough for him, and as he made to pull his hand away, Marcus tightened his hold on it.

With force, Esca managed to wrench it free. “I don’t want to be your bottom boy.”

“I don’t want you to be either.”

Esca stared at Marcus, wondering if he’d somehow misread the signs. His face must have shown his confusion because Marcus was quick to add, “I _do_ want you, and I make no bones of it. I’ve wanted you since the day you stared at me fiercely in the arena and lit my blood.”

He remembered that moment well, lying in the dirt, the gladiator’s sword aimed at his chest, as he waited to die and join his family in the afterlife. He had heard the voice shouting ‘life’ and glanced up to see Marcus, with his handsome face, his hair limned in sunlight, with his thumb up.

“I want you as an equal in all things, even this,” Marcus finished.

Esca stared at him, hardly believing what he was hearing. “That isn’t the Roman way.”

“No. But if this journey has taught me anything, it is that I am perhaps less Roman than I had thought, or wish to be. And most certainly in this.”

Esca stared at Marcus, as though half expecting him to laugh and say he was joking, but the face looking back at him was earnest. Esca’s heart beat wildly as he slowly he leant towards Marcus, gauging his friend’s reaction. Marcus moved to meet him halfway so their lips gently brushed, and suddenly with a groan, which Esca had no idea who made, they were kissing wildly and passionately, tongues dancing and mapping the slick heat of each other’s mouths. He’d imagined doing this many times but the reality made his fantasies pale into insignificance.

Marcus lay back and, with a growing euphoria, Esca covered him, still kissing mindlessly, feeling the heat of the strong, compact body beneath him, and the hardness growing against his abdomen as he pressed his own down in ecstatic response.

In the space of moments, he went from exhaustion to never feeling more alive, as his hips writhed to create more friction, a part of himself impressed that he apparently had enough energy to do this. He could feel one of Marcus’ hand gripping his head, the other, his arse, as if to hold him snugly in place.

Panting he drew back and pushed his tunic up. He’d intended to go for the ties on Marcus’ braccae, but the sight of the expanse of olive skin over his flat stomach gave him pause and sliding up to straddle Marcus’ hips, he pushed the tunic higher to expose the wide, muscled planes of his chest and two nipples standing small and erect in the cool air. Leaning forward, he flicked his tongue over a hard bud before enclosing it with his lips and sucking, tasting the salty skin with a hum of approval. He felt as much as heard Marcus’ gasp, as his hips jolted upward and the hand resting at the back of his head tightened in his hair.

Esca smiled at the uninhibited response and trailing wet kisses across his chest, focused his attention on the other nipple, working it with tongue and teeth until it was wet and stiff and throbbing. When he pulled away, Marcus’ head was tilted back, exposing his neck, his mouth open in a silent ‘o’. It took a moment for Marcus to come back to himself, pushing up onto his elbows they met half way in a frenzied kiss, Esca sucking his tongue, biting his lips.

Panting, he broke away and made quick work on the ties of Marcus’ braccae, pushing them out of the way to gain access to his engorged cock. He’d seen it before many times, but only in a flaccid state; he’d even touched it when cleansing Marcus in bed in the early days following his surgery, until he was able to fend for himself. But back then, all he’d felt was a simmering resentment that he, a chieftain’s son, should be brought to this, where now he held it almost reverently, noting the contrast of the dark skin against his pale hand, feeling the weighty heft of his cock in his palm.

Staring down at Marcus, his eyes closed, his face flushed, Esca gripped the rigid shaft in his fist and gave an experimental pull from base to tip. Marcus gasped, his hips thrusting upwards, almost unseating Esca. Suddenly fingers were pushing up his own tunic and working on his ties until his own cock had Marcus’ fist wrapped around it, and suddenly his entire being was focused on the sensation as he thrust into the tight channel.

Esca surrendered to the sensations that made his blood sing, the focus of his entire being at that moment held in Marcus’ large, hot hand – a hand that before this had only ever held his own cock, working it this same way during lonely nights of self-pleasure. He was so overwhelmed by the sheer eroticism, it took an impatient thrust from Marcus’ hips to remind him he was supposed to be reciprocating. Looking down, seeing Marcus’ cock, a drop of liquid crystal sliding down the head, feeling silk-soft slide skin over an iron core, added to the intensity of the moment.

Having secretly wanted this for months, a part of him wondered if he would soon wake up and realise it was just a dream. If it was, he wanted to enjoy it as much as he could and with that thought, fell forward to kiss Marcus soundly and passionately, putting every ounce of his feeling into it as his tongue took possession of Marcus’ mouth.

Wanting to taste more of him, Esca kissed and licked along his jaw and down his neck, Marcus turning his head to give him more access as his lips slid over salty skin, nipping lightly with his teeth. Hearing Marcus gasp his name in pleasure sent a lightning bolt to his groin.

“I want you to fuck me,” Marcus whispered. If ever Esca wanted to hear anything, it was that: his deepest desire being granted.

He pulled back to find Marcus’ eyes tightly closed and a heightened colour on his cheeks, and realised some sense of shame still persisted.

“You haven’t done it before.” Esca already knew the answer.

“No,” Marcus confirmed, and then in what must have been an extreme act of pure will, opened his eyes and met Esca’s gaze. “It’s not—”

“The Roman way? So then we should wait until we can do it properly.” Esca slid his thumb through the viscous liquid covering Marcus’ cockhead, and every time he stroked over the small slit, he heard Marcus’ breath hitch. _So sensitive._ Gripping the shaft he worked his fist languidly up and down several times. “This is enough for now, Marcus,” he said rocking his hips to push into his friend’s grip.

“We could…you could...” Marcus swallowed and cleared his throat. “There is something we could do now.”

Esca was so far gone he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop, but forced himself focus on Marcus’ words. “What?”

“If you lie behind me and…” Esca watched Marcus’ blush deepen with interest, causing him to look away. “I’ll show you,” he mumbled and Esca had to bite back a smile at this uncharacteristic show of modesty given what they had already shared.

It took some manoeuvring and a dawning understanding to get what Marcus wanted. Lying behind him, staring at the delectable firm mounds of his arse, Esca slicked his cock up with spit and pressed it between Marcus’ thighs, feeling him clamp down hard. He had to close his eyes against the view, but the sensation still threatened to cause him to spend too soon as the tip nudged against Marcus’ balls, eliciting a groan of approval.

“Fuck,” Esca gasped and reached round to take hold of Marcus.

“I can… just hold on to my hip.”

Esca acknowledged it made it easier to move, arching forward and feeling Marcus grind back in response. They fell into a rhythm, their bodies slapping together as a counterpoint to the crackle of the fire and the pitter-patter of rain outside, their gasping breaths and groans of ecstasy echoing around the cavern. The sensation was indescribable, his cock compressed in tight heat, his face pressed to Marcus’ neck and surrounded by a musky scent that was uniquely his friend. Because it was their first time, the build-up was inevitably swift as arousal uncurled in his belly, his balls tightened and he abandoned himself to pleasure, spending himself in a shuddering, pulsing release.

Coming down from his euphoria, he could feel Marcus working himself hard and fast and grabbed his wrist. “Let me.”

Marcus surrendered immediately, making Esca smile. Pulling his cock free, he scooped up some of the viscous liquid that coated Marcus’ thighs and reaching around, wrapped a hand around Marcus’ rock-hard length.

Recalling a thought he’d had earlier, he said quietly, “This is what I do with my cock when I think of you,” he whispered into Marcus ear and the confession made his friend whimper. “I hold it just like this and imagine how it would be to be buried in your hot, tight arse.”

He heard Marcus gasp and encouraged, he decided to share a favourite fantasy, reminded of it from their earlier conversation. “I’d like you to wear your uniform, Marcus, even your helmet, while I fuck you over a table.”

He could feel Marcus’ hips stuttering, his panting breaths loud in the silence of the cave and realised he may have got the measure of the man. With his other hand, he grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling his head back, twisting to bite at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. With a growl, he felt Marcus pulse in his hand.

Marcus went quiet and still, but Esca had no intention of leaving him alone with any thoughts of shame or embarrassment, grabbing his shoulder until his friend was lying on his back.

Pulling up his braccae high enough to be able to straddle Marcus he leant down and kissed him fiercely and possessively, Marcus reciprocating enthusiastically. Leaning back, he looked down with a smile of understanding and reaching out, tenderly ran the back of his hand down Marcus' cheek, seeing him close his eyes and lean into the tender touch. How he loved this stubborn, courageous man.

“You’re mine.”

He could see it took some effort for Marcus to meet his gaze, his face colouring again as his hand covered Esca’s. “Yes,” he admitted. “I am.”

 

finis


End file.
